Gone
by gypsysfeather
Summary: Senior year is coming to an end. Regina and Robin start their week off like always, a Sunday morning coffee at the cafe downtown, but by the end of the week, will they even know where each other are? [Rated M for language and some sexual content]
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**_

 _ **Hey all! Here's a new story called "Gone". Some of you may recognize a little bit from Lauren Olivers' "Vanishing Girls", but it moves on into it's own story, don't worry :)**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you liked it by leaving a review, so I can decide for sure to continue this or not :)**_

 _ **G.**_

 _June 20_ _th_ _, Sunday, 10:45 AM_

 _ **Robin**_

 _Before_

"Regina, I'm telling you, I didn't sleep with Zelena. That baby can't be mine."

They're fighting again. It's Sunday morning, they were at breakfast, and then she had to bring up how pregnant Zelena is and that the school isn't allowing her to walk during graduation. Automatically, that conversation always turns into a fight. She accuses me of lying to her all the time, but she _knows_ better than that. She knows that I wouldn't ever do that to her, she just won't let herself believe it this time for some _stupid_ reason. She's just afraid, I guess, that this would be the one time I'd lie about something because it's a huge deal. But I didn't get Zelena pregnant.

"Tink _told_ me she saw you guys at the party the other night, together. You know, the one I couldn't go to because I was sick?" She says to him, and it makes him more and more angry.

I'm driving a little too fast, but I ignore that and shake my head. "Would you just stop accusing me of this?" I ask, weaving around a car that was going too slow. They were probably, actually going the speed limit. "I am so tired of feeling like a liar even though _I'm not lying_. I know for a fact that I didn't sleep with her. I only had two drinks at that bar party, and then I walked Zelena out to her car, yes, and that's what Tink saw. After Zelena went to her car, I went back inside the bar and drank a little more, but then I was missing you because everyone else was dancing on the floor with their significant, so I came home. I took a cab, even, and came home." I explain, feeling all of it rush out of me like a freight train.

She's so damn stubborn. Why can't she just believe me? I'd never do something like that to hurt her. We've been dating over four years now. We started the summer before freshman year, when she finally realized that her best friend's squeaky voice was going away, that I was growing facial hair, and that she was attracted to that. All of it. Even my personality, somehow.

"How do I believe you, Robin?" She asks me, shaking her head. I'm not looking at her but I can see her silhouette in the corner of my eye. "I mean, you lie all the time. Maybe not to me but your parents." She says, throwing that in my face for the hundredth time. "We go out to underage bars that aren't even legal, because _we're too young to drink,_ and then we go lie to our parents about it." She says.

I turn the corner, the one that has a view of the beach and the water. At one time in our relationship, I would've slowed down – maybe even stopped, just so we could look at the waves together until a car comes up behind us. But today, I'm going seventy around the corner that the speed is twenty.

"Robin, slow down." She says, her voice is becoming smaller now. I can tell. "You're going to wreck us..." She says.

"I'm not going to wreck us." It makes me more angry, and I just push the pedal down harder. "Can we just please drop this?"

"Pull over." Regina says, "Pull over and we'll drop it."

"What's the point of pulling over?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "I'm fine."

She looks down at my gear shift in the console, then grabs her fingers onto it, "I'm going to shift it into neutral if you don't slow the hell down, Robin." She snaps at me, and I roll my eyes. I look down and I'm going 80.

I reach down to her hand and shoosh it off of the stick, but she just puts it back on. I shoosh it off again, and I look up to see headlights, and they were coming at me at a fierce speed.

 _June 20_ _th_ _, Sunday, 6:15 PM_

 _ **Regina**_

 _After_

I'm sore. So fucking sore. I'm trying to will my body to move, but all I can do is make little groaning sounds when I try. I open my eyes, finding a white ceiling staring back at me. I hear beeps, and I will myself to look down at my hands to see little cords going into my hands that are filled with liquid, being pumped through me like drugs. _They are drugs_ , I tell myself.

"Robin..." I mumble, realizing slowly that he's not here. I look over ever-so-slowly to not hurt myself, seeing a nurse who was working around me.

She looks over at me, and I'm trying to speak but my voice just comes out sloshy and slow, like syrup trickling out of the bottle onto your pancakes. "Ah, you're awake." She says, saying it like they've been waiting on this for a while.

My head falls back to its last position, my face straight-forward, looking at the television. The evening news is on, showing a car that was horribly beaten up, leaning against a rock wall as police searched around it. "...the passenger is in the hospital, and our last report told us that she was stable with no major injuries. The paramedics just confirmed she _was_ wearing her seat belt..."

I move my head a little, feeling how sore the right side of my neck was, the left side of my chest, and down my sternum. _Was I in a wreck? Was this my wreck?_ "Nurse..." I say weakly, so weakly that I don't even recognize my own voice. "Is that-"

The nurse looks up and real quickly, she grabs the remote and changes the channel. "Oh, nothing to worry about." She says, and even in my state of drugged mind, I could tell she was being too frantic if it was nothing.

I look over where there was a chair, one for someone to sit in. I realize something, I realize that Robin would be here if something weren't wrong with him. "Robin..." I murmur again, and she looks at me and swallows hard.

"Who?" She asks, and I want to roll my eyes but I feel like I could be sick if I do.

"Robin." I say, more sternly than the last few words I'd said. "Wh-where is Robin?"

She turns away from me. _This bitch is turning away from me,_ I kept thinking. "Okay, lets try to get you feeling better so you can get off of that IV. One step closer to going home." She says, blatantly changing the subject.

I'm ignoring her. I'm too busy giving myself a pep-talk, mumbling under my breath that I need to sit up, that I've got to find my phone and text Robin. I have to know where the hell he is.

My arms are by my side still – I haven't moved them an inch yet. I slowly slide my hands beside my hips, laying my palms flat on the white, hard bedding underneath me. I think of that car, and I push up and finally get my upper body to sit up. I know the bed moves, I know I could've let it sit me up myself, but I needed to show this stupid nurse that _I needed to know where Robin was,_ and that I am extremely serious about finding out. I need to know if that was his car, because it never set in quick enough for me to look to see what _kind_ of car was crushed against those rocks. I have a million questions, and this nurse is going to answer at least one of them if it kills me.

"Where. The hell. Is Robin?" I say, practically growling at her now. Something inside of me lit up. I've only felt this once before, and it was when my mother was threatening to- not important. That's not important now. No sense in getting riled up about that, I need to know what's happened, and why I'm in this hospital. _Maybe that's a better question to ask, what happened to her_. "Why am I in the hospital?" I finally ask.

The nurse sighs at me when she sees me sitting up, "You were in a wreck." She says. She should've lied, because now it's driving me crazy to know.

"Was that the car I was in? The one on the TV? Is that why I'm so sore?" I ask. I feel my mind buzzing, I feel sick, and I feel excited all at the same time. I had too many emotions running through my brain.

"Listen," The nurse says softly, shaking her head. "I have to ask you to lay back down. Being too excited like this causes too much stress to your body, and in result can make you lose the baby." She says.

"What?!" I exclaim, "I'm not...I don't have a baby." I state. Do I? I don't remember much of anything before waking up in the hospital, really. The last thing I remember clearly is the first snow of March, but looking out the window earlier I know that it's summer time. The accident must've made me forget this stuff. "I'm only _just_ eighteen. I can't be pregnant." I say, shaking my head.

The nurse looks like she's said way too much, and in my mind she most certainly has. She just looks mortified and upset, and then walks out of her room, leaving me all alone with just the beeping machines, my IV, and...apparently, my baby.

I lean back on my bed and look down, pulling the blanket down off of my stomach and revealing a small swell. I guess she was really right, she was being truthful. Why would she have a reason not to be truthful, though? She's just doing her job, and she let something slip that she thought I already knew. Based off of the size of my small belly, I'm guessing that I'm about three months pregnant.

 _March 26, Sunday, 1:04 AM_

 _ **Regina**_

 _Before_

I'm wrapped in his arms. Gosh, I love his arms. I feel so free yet so secure there, but maybe the free part is just because I've had lots of alcohol.

Earlier tonight, we were at a party. It was great at first, but it was one of those parties that got boring after about two hours, because the people that got drunk there were the kind of people who aren't fun drunks. Robin and I are fun drunks, though, and we were ready to find another party. He lead me out of the front door, my hand in is, and by then I was already pretty drunk. We didn't make it far, just to the little cabin down the road in the woods.

And then, sex. Lots of it. Gosh, the sex. He has an amazing dick, and I can still feel it pressed against my leg, even though now it's soft and spent – kind of how I feel now – soft and spent. "Babe?" I ask, looking up at him from my pillow. "I love you...I love you a lot."

Robin smiles back at me, "I love you too, my little lady..." He coos, and it makes my heart melt again. I fall into the pillow a little more, and before I know it, I'm asleep.

 _June 20_ _th_ _, Sunday, 7:00 PM_

 _ **Robin**_

 _After_

 _Shit._ I'm in so much pain, pain that I'd never even felt before. I don't know where I am, I have no idea. I'm moving – well, my body isn't, but I'm moving. It's loud in here, and I can't tell if it's because I'm on a boat or a plane or train. It's too loud to be a car, even a truck.

I sit up just enough to hurt myself even more. My body quickly lets me know that I have something dangerously wrong with my leg, and I look down to see it crooked and sticking out in places it didn't before... _before what? What happened?_ I couldn't remember anything...nothing made sense. It seemed like just yesterday Regina and I were at a party, walking out in the winter snow to go find that cabin where we stayed one night. But judging on the sweat that's pouring from my forehead, I doubt it's winter. Unless I'm in a furnace. (I quickly rule that out inside my head).

I remember, suddenly, saying that burning would be the worst way to die. Regina always argued with me and said drowning would be, but I wasn't ever sure. I guess when _they_ say opposites attract, they're completely correct. If Regina and I are anything, we're opposites. Maybe that's why we always fight so much, but damn it I love that woman. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart...except maybe this. Simply because I don't know where I am, who I'm with, or where they're taking me.

Fear rushes over me like a dark cloud that's about to drop ten inches of rain. Everything felt darker, suddenly, even though it's pitch black and I can barely see the crookedness of my leg. I decided now would be a good time to assess the rest of my body, see what else is wrong – hopefully nothing. But when I look down at my shirt, it's covered in blood drips. I reach up slowly for my face, even though that pains me, too, and feel dried blood all over it. Scratches, cuts, bruises...they're covering my face. It's no wonder I'm in such a stupor – the amount of blood I lost onto my shirt is enough to fill another body.

I look around at something to give me a clue of where I am, but nothing. I have no idea, still, and I don't know if I'll ever get an idea. I feel sick, maybe from the pain, maybe from the fear. I'm sick, too, because I don't know if Regina is okay. I don't even know what happened. Does she know where I am? Was she with me when...whatever happened, happened? I'd rather die than let something happen to her.

Thinking about her, I quickly realize, makes me feel calmer, safer somehow. She's not even here and she can still bring a smile to my beaten face.

I think back to the time in first grade when she'd come down the stairs at school, all covered in tears. She was my best friend, even then, and I immediately went and beat up the boy that called her ponytail ugly. I got timeout, detention, and I wasn't allowed in recess for the rest of the week. But for Regina, it was worth it.

Then, another time in sixth grade, this girl was pushing her around. She was being downright horrible to her, and I wasn't about to put up with it. I couldn't beat her up like I did to the kid in first grade, because...well, she was a girl. But I pulled a horrible, nasty prank on her and signed it with "R". She didn't know if it was me, or if it was Regina, but she knew she couldn't get me in trouble here.

I was the principal's son.

No one messed with me, which meant no one messed with Regina, either, all through middle school. By the eighth grade, she'd grown enough of a backbone from dealing with her mother that she didn't have to depend on me to fight her fights anymore. And I guess that's the best thing that ever was going to happen to me, really, because it was then that she stopped seeing me as her best friend – but someone who she had a crush on, and someone who had always had a major crush on her.

I'm pulled from my memories, now, when whatever I'm in hits a bump. More bumps, more bumps, and I then figure out we're in a boat – it's getting choppy, wherever they're taking me.

The motor slows down, and I can feel my body becoming more tired as the boat slows, like I was running off of the same momentum that this watercraft was. I wrap my hurting arms around my bloody body, lean back into the corner of the room, and close my eyes. Maybe if I squeeze my eyes closed hard enough, I'll wake up. It's just a dream, isn't it?

 _June 20_ _th_ _, Sunday, 10:30 PM_

 _ **Regina**_

 _After_

"As a patient of this hospital, I am _demanding_ I be released. I am eighteen years old, and I don't have to wait for my mother to sign papers to release me." I tell the human resources lady, who is standing beside my bed in a stuffy, dark navy suit. "Now let me out _now_ or I'll sue."

The HR woman says a few things to the doctor, and he shakes his head but she shrugs in a counteractive way. She turns back to me and shrugs, "There's nothing we can do to legally stop you from leaving this hospital, Miss Mills." She says, finally defeated.

I immediately feel a smile painted onto my face. How could I not? I'll be out. I'll be finding Robin. I'll be okay. We'll be okay. All three of us, I guess. It'll all go back to being normal. Right?

Right.

As soon as they let me, I get out of the bed. I ignore the pain I'm in, pushing through it and swallowing back my tears. I can't let them see how much it hurts me just to move my head, otherwise they will lecture me again about leaving. I had to get out of here. I don't have broken bones. I'm fine, perfectly fine. Me and...my baby, we're okay. I think.

I hold onto the bed for a moment while the doctor and nurse are both turned away from me, widening my eyes from the stiff, sore pain. When they turn back, I straighten up and let go of the bed rail. "Alright, Miss Mills, we just need you to sign a few papers saying that you released yourself." The nurse says, handing me about ten papers, marked with two _X's_ on each page, indicating where I needed to sign. When I get to the last two, she explains further, "Those are stating that you know you're pregnant, and that you're leaving even though we suggest it wouldn't be healthy for you _or_ the baby."

I look down, my throat tightens up quickly and my breath feels caught in my lungs. Could I risk this? Of course I can. I don't have to think too long about it. I love Robin way more than some accidental baby...

Right?

Right.

I sign the papers, nodding so that she knows I listened to what she said. My name was there on all of the lines, beside all of the _X's_ , and then I hand them all over to the nurse. She just stares at me like I'm making the worst decision ever, and maybe I am.

But I have to find Robin.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**_

 _ **Hey guys! Hope you're weekend was great.**_

 _ **Here's a new update of Gone. If you like it, let me know :)**_

 _ **G.**_

 _June 21_ _st_ _, Monday, 9:35 AM_

 _ **Regina**_

 _After_

 _Please pick up..._

I sent that to Robin almost five minutes ago, after a long line of texts all day and half of last night. I finally dozed off at about two yesterday morning, but woke up not long after at six thirty. I was too worried to sleep, too worried to eat, too worried to even think straight. What the hell could've happened to him?

I pull my phone charger out from my console, throwing my blanket to the back of my car. (I'd snuck into my house late last night, grabbed my keys really quickly, and drove around town to try to find him. Nowhere...I couldn't even find his car in this little, sleepy town). My phone is on 18%, and I'm planning on using it a lot more today to try and find him.

I click on my browser app, typing in the Google search bar "bad wreck in applecroft june 20" and hit enter. Immediately, four links popped up:

 _Bad Wreck on Winding Pines Rd. in Applecroft_

 _Car Crashes into Rock Wall on Winding Pines Rd. in Applecroft_

 _Passenger Found Unconscious, Bad Wreck on Winding Pines_

 _UPDATED 3:32 PM June 20_ _th_ _–_ _Rock Wall vs. Chevrolet Camaro_

The last one catches my eye, just because it has been updated. Aside from the original, rude title, I'm wanting to read the update. I was still out of it at 3:30 yesterday, maybe there's more news than I know. Who am I kidding? I know zero news. Everyone in this town probably knows more than I do at this point.

I click on the updated one, the link that seemed to be the most promising (also because Robin drives a Chevy Camaro...) and it brings up a picture of the car – the same scene I saw yesterday on the news. That's his car. Black, all black down to the wheels. His father bought it for him, with the help of his mother, too. But Robin was spoiled. _Gosh,_ his parents. I haven't even thought of them until now. They're probably worried sick. Why didn't I think to call them?

They can wait, for now. I need to know what happened. I read further:

 _ **UPDATED 3:32 PM June 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **–**_ _ **Rock Wall vs. Chevrolet Camaro**_

 _Dispatchers received a 911 call from a witness on Winding Pines Road in Applecroft, telling the unfortunate news that a black Chevrolet Camaro_ _had lost all control and ran into the wall at the corner that looks out onto the beach. Winding Pines is known for it's freak accidents, due to many people turning and seeing the wall – looking at the beautiful sights on each side. Pines on the left, waves and sand on the right._

That doesn't sound like Robin. Robin was – no, is – an amazing driver. I've never _not_ trusted his driving capabilities, he hardly ever even speeds. But I continue anyway:

 _When dispatchers arrived, the witness (who is unnamed, dispatcher Ruby Lucas says the witness never gave her name, but indeed was a female) was gone, and the only person in the car was a young woman. Other details on the woman were not specified, and will not be given out. A driver was nowhere to be found, but blood splattered on the dash beneath the steering wheel suggested that whoever it was, now has a nasty wound or two._

 _Police are investigating. They say speed was a factor. We will give more updates as we receive_ _them._

 _If you have any whereabouts on where this mystery driver may be, please contact 1-800-444-HELP or call the Applecroft Police Station (link here)._

 _UPDATE 3:32 JUNE 20TH-_

 _The car has been registered to one Robin Locksley. We've received information that his wallet, along with a phone and other things of his has been found inside the car that's in pieces. They aren't releasing the passenger's name, but they are telling us she's in critical condition._

What an update. I already know it's Robin...it's Robin's car for goodness sake. Everyone in this town knows his car.

But where would he be? He couldn't have gotten out by himself, it seems, since the dash was smashed in and there was lots of blood splattered onto it. Did he bail before it crashed into the wall? Did he leave me to fend for myself? Did he think I was dead?

Maybe he knew about the baby. _Damn._ Maybe _I_ knew about the baby. I can't remember anything after March, and I now officially know today is June 21st. Why can't I remember anything after March? Did I hit my head that hard?

Surely, if Robin knew about the baby, he wouldn't have left me. Robin isn't that kind of person to be upset about a child. He wouldn't be the kind to leave me.

Suddenly, I felt a horrible, cold sense of loneliness. I wrapped my arms tightly around me, let my phone fall into my lap, and pulled my blanket back onto me. I just cuddled up in it.

It smells like Robin. He gave it to me this past Christmas, and I can't ever seem to get rid of his masculine, musky smell on it. I love that smell. I miss that smell. I hold the smell close to my face, burying down into the fuzziness and warmth. The blanket is pretty, it's pink and has apple blossoms on it. He knows they're my favorite flower. Somehow, though, even the blanket seemed cold, but I was sitting in a hot car.

My right hand slides down my body, leading to the small swell of my stomach, that I guess is really a baby. I move the blanket to the side, just barely, and swallow hard. "Where is he?" I ask, desperate for someone to talk to. So desperate, I'm talking to an unborn, hardly developed baby that's still growing inside of me. I break down, then. I can't hold my tears back anymore. I'm overwhelmed, I'm still in pain, and I need Robin. He'd know what to do.

 _December 24_ _th_ _, Thursday, 11:33 PM_

 _ **Robin**_

 _Before_

"Are you sure you want your gift now?" I ask, smiling a little as I hold the wrapped up present in my hand, over to the other side of me where she couldn't reach it.

She smiles, her red cheeks moving up with her eyes that practically had frozen eyelashes. "I want my gift now." She coos, holding her gloved hand out.

She looks beautiful, first off. Even though she's in a robe, and I know she has long johns underneath her Christmas pajamas (I made her wear them. Traditions and such. I like tradition), she's still stunning. She has black gloves on, a beanie, and we're sharing three thick blankets. We have hot cocoa piled into two cups beside us. We're freezing, we're on a rooftop at almost midnight, but we're together. And sometimes, this is the only way.

I chuckle at her, shrugging a little. "I don't know. It's kind of boring." I say, being playful.

She punches me, square in the arm and hard. Maybe it felt harder, just because I'm so cold. "Give me my gift, Locksley." She says, scrunching her hand up as she holds it out, then flattens it back out as if to say _gimme_. "It's almost Christmas anyway."

"Fine." I say finally, bringing her gift to the other side of me and placing the wrapped item in her lap. "Merry Christmas, my love." I whisper, kissing her ice cold cheek before sitting back and letting her be a little kid while opening her present.

It's two presents in one. She finds the first one, it's a warm, fuzzy blanket that has apple blossoms on it. They're her favorite. She loves apples, even though she thinks the name of our town is cheesy. Everyone thinks it's cheesy, though. She smells like apples, most of the time. I ask her if she uses apple shampoo, and she always denies it, but somehow her hair smells like them. I guess it's just her scent. Everyone has a scent. Apple is a good one to have, I suppose.

Her eyes light up, and she's happier about this present than I thought she'd be. I figured she'd be happy, but not so happy to bust open the ribbon that held it together, all neatly folded. She throws it over us, then lays us back on the roof and chuckles. "I love it, Robin." She whispers to me, scooting close to kiss my cheek.

"There's something else." I whisper, still a bit in shock she loved something so simple as this blanket. _It's just a blanket, what could possibly be so important about it?_ I just used it as a filler for something better.

"There is?" She asks, astounded that I'd give her something other than this blanket.

I chuckle, nodding and directing to the small box that she'd dropped on the snowy shingle. "It's right there." I say.

She looks over and grabs it, opening it slowly after giving me a _you didn't_ look. "Oh Robin..." She breathes, and I could tell she was holding back tears. She snuggles the blanket closer, and her voice breaks, "It's a promise ring." She cries.

Gosh, I hated when she cried. Even happy tears, I just wanted her to never ever feel like crying. I know it's happy tears, or at least I hope it is, but she still always somehow seemed so sad, even in the happy tears.

I turn on my side, kissing her cheek and wrapping my arms around her waist. "It is." I whisper to her, drying her tears off with my shoulder. "Do you like it?" I ask.

She nods vigorously, squirming to keep from bursting into more tears. "I love it." She whispers, taking it from the box and sliding it onto her finger. "It even fits perfectly, Robin." She says, twisting her neck to look at me. And there's that smile I love. I adore it. I live for that smile.

"I hoped it would." I coo, kissing her lips lovingly.

 _June 21_ _st_ _, Monday, 9:42_ _AM_

 _ **Regina**_

 _After_

 _UPDATE 3:32 JUNE 20TH-_

 _The car has been registered to one Robin Locksley. We've received information that his wallet, along with a phone and other things of his has been found inside the car that's in pieces. They aren't releasing the passenger's name, but they are telling us she's in critical condition._

My eyes just keep going back to that pitiful update. It didn't hit me until now, but they're saying I'm in critical condition. I seem fine, other than being incredibly sore. I'm okay. I must have slept it all off. I'm good. Right?

Right.

I sit the back of my seat up, looking out at the parking lot in front of me. I'd parked at Walmart, knowing that truckers and old people on vacation always park here overnight, surely I wouldn't get in trouble for parking my little car here and sleeping for one night. Sure, it was sketchy, but I knew better than to leave my doors unlocked. Robin had taught me to defend myself.

 _Robin_.

Just the thought of him made my eyes water horribly, tears were strongly pricking at the whites in my eyes until I blinked, then they overflowed like someone had turned a water faucet on high. I quickly wipe them away, though, and start my car. I needed to keep searching. Sitting here – being upset and sad about not knowing where he is – won't do me any good, or Robin for that matter.

…

It's a short drive to his house from Walmart.

He lives in one of the nicest subdivisions in Applecroft. The town has signs up all over the streets there that say, " _Applecroft's Oldest Subdivision – Est. 1894_ ". And you can tell the age of it, you know it's old by looking at it, but all of the houses are huge and victorian style, all very well kept by their owners'.

As I near his driveway, I wonder if they're home. I _hope_ they're not home. His sister, his mother, or his father. What do I say to them if they are? _Sorry, I'm here to snoop around Robin's room to see if I'm forgetting something_ or maybe, _sorry I don't know where your son is._ That one sounds like a wonderful line.

Thankfully, they're not home, and my grip loosens a bit on the steering wheel as soon as that relief floods me.

Once I've pulled into their driveway (my little 2004, Honda Civic doesn't fit in well in this subdivision, and sticks out like a sore thumb, quite honestly), I make it to the doorway and lift the mat. Most people hide their keys under a mat, or in a grill, or even in a loose board. No, the Locksleys – being the rich, arrogant pricks they are – have to have a coded key holder built in, underneath their mat.

I've always disliked his family.

I close my eyes, thinking of the millions of different combinations. I try to narrow it down, but nothing was narrowing. They didn't like Robin enough to use his birthday. Maybe it's his sister's birthday? I try to think of hers, but I fail horribly.

Frustrated, I put the mat back down and stand up, placing my hands on my hips as I pace a small circle on their front porch. _Think, Regina._

I suddenly get an idea, or a half of one, and walk around to the back. I make sure to be aware of my surroundings...I can't risk getting caught trying to break into their house. Not with everything going on – I have to find Robin. I have to do this carefully. And I refuse to have a child in prison (even though I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm really not pregnant).

I pick the mat up on the back door, closing my eyes and trying to remember back to the time Robin brought me here before his parents got home from work, and while his sister was out at a party. We did things to frighten frogs in that house that day. _Not the point, focus._

I clench my eyelids shut harder, shaking my head. I try Robin's birthday for this one, hoping and praying it doesn't set an alarm off if it's wrong. Thankfully, the lid pops open when I enter the four digits for his birthday, and the key is shining down in the box. I'm keeping the key. No one will notice for a while, anyway. And by then, no one will have suspected me stealing it.

After getting in and locking the door behind me (I was maybe being to cautionary, but I was afraid. Afraid of his parents, his sister, and afraid of the fact that someone _might have_ taken Robin...), I walk up the white staircase, trimmed in gold, and take a right to get into his room.

I stop in the doorway when I open it. It's always so messy, but this time instead of wanting to yell at him for it, it comforts me. It makes me want to jump in the pile of dirty clothes he has over underneath the windowsill where he always keeps them. It makes me want to grab his hoodie. And maybe I do grab his hoodie. It's probably close to ninety degrees out, but I need _him._ Even if it's just his scent, it reminds me this is going to be okay. It reminds me I need to find him, and I'm probably just overreacting.

Just like Robin would do if he were here to tell me that. He would say, "Regina, you just need to take a step back and breathe for two seconds, okay?" and then he would sit down on his bed, kicking his shoes off and leaning down to take his socks off (because he hates socks in the summertime, refuses to wear them once his shoes are off), "Think rationally." is what he would tell me.

How do I think rationally right now?

But no, he's right. The Robin inside my head is completely right. I need to think rationally and I need to get to work, do what I came here for. I needed clues, ideas, somewhere to look.

I start on his dresser, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. I search his drawers, his closet, his secret compartment that he hides liquor in (it's an old house with bunches of nooks and crannies his parents have no idea about). Nothing, though. There was nothing odd.

I make my way to his bed, opening the one drawer I haven't checked – his bedside table drawer. I know what it has in it before I even look. Condoms, three empty condom wrappers, a plan B packet for me, and odds and ends he stuffs in there. But this time, when I open it, there's a leather book in there. It looks tattered, used, but loved. This isn't new, but it is to me.

I take it out carefully, examining the leather binding and adoring how beautifully made it is. I halfway am thinking I shouldn't open it, I shouldn't look through his personal belongings like this. But we've been friends for years and years now, if he has something he's hiding from me, I need to find out _now_. Not only because I'm his best friend and his girlfriend, but because something may be in here that can help me find him.

There's a few entries dated back from the beginning of this new year. He writes about how this is his New Year's resolution. (That's another difference between he and I...he finishes New Year's resolutions, I do them for _maybe_ two weeks – if I'm lucky). I flip through the pages, glancing at all of the jumpy handwriting in each one. Nothing out of the ordinary. I flip over some more, getting closer to where we were now. I was wasting time going through February, so I skipped March, April, and started mid-May.

The first thing I read is the entry about how I accused him of sleeping with Zelena. _Oh,_ I remember that night too well. I feel horrible for accusing him of it. I still accused him for it long after this. I just...I shouldn't. He wouldn't do that. But Zelena swears he did. I trust Robin, though, and I know he loves me. Right?

I skip a little bit and get to the day before the wreck, June 19th – two days ago.

 _Today I bought another ring for Regina. She says she has something important to tell me, but I have something even more important to tell_ _her_ _. Well, it's a question really, I guess. I mean, I gave her the promise ring at Christmas, but I just can't wait anymore to be able to call her my fiancee. And then soon after, my wife. I need that next step. I have to have it quickly. I love this woman._

 _Aside from that, I had a weird encounter with a man today. He was watching me all over the mall, and then even ate at the same restaurant I did there, and he stared at me over his menu a few times until I let him know I was uncomfortable by staring back at him. After that, he left without ordering anything. I found it odd, but didn't think too much about it. I just can't wait to give her the ring._

He was going to propose. Oh my _gosh._ But when? When did he want to? I flip to the next page, hoping, _praying_ he wrote something else down, but there was nothing. _Nothing_. I felt like vomiting.

I did. I did vomit. I vomited straight into his trash can.

 _June 21_ _st_ _, Monday, 2:00 PM_

 _ **Robin**_

 _After_

My eyes flutter open slowly. Where am I?

I hear voices, but they're low and muffled. I must be in a different room from them, I can tell that much. I check my surroundings out, seeing all of the dark brown walls, then registering in my mind that they're logs. I'm in a cabin.

My mind rushes a hundred miles per minute trying to decide where I may be. I don't know of any log cabins _in_ Applecroft.

"He's awake." I hear, and that voice isn't far from me. It's not muffled, it's not low. It's right behind me.

I crane my neck back, but all I saw was a blindfold coming at me. Before I could say anything in protest, a pill was shoved down my throat. I tried squirming, but my body quickly reminded me how much pain I was in, and how broken my leg is. After the pill came a gag, but I don't remember much of the gag. After that, I was out.


End file.
